The Healing

From the window, you could almost see pulsations. The little white-paned glass glistened and- could it be?- SHIVERED with the movement of some mysterious force as the night waned and the moon hovered full and ripe above the house. There was music, soft music...and a voice. A steady, hearty woman's voice, rising up from behind closed curtains and singing confidently, as though giving a concert. But it seemed that no one, nothing was behind the huge lavender taffeta curtains, those thick pieces of cloth that seemed to be hiding a masterpiece. Oh, to see what went on inside that night, to know what truly transpired! But no one would know, she reminded herself. They mustn't. It would ruin everything.

The dim light from the shimmering blue candle cast twisted shadows on the wall, made her wince, made her tremble with nerves for fear of being seen or screwing up. Hastily, she drew the shades, locked her door, and drew the energies in about her.

"I call to Earth, great Mother, powers of the North and ancient ones of the sacred watchtowers...hear me, ground me, protect me, guide me..."

Sweating and swaying, she stared into the blue haze that surrounded the candle. She spun on her heels and tossed her healing crystals from hand to hand. If a miracle won’t come, she thought, I’ll make one of my own.

"I call to Air, winds of change and chaos, powers of the East and ancient ones of the sacred watchtowers...hear me, fill me..." Her voice faltered upon itself as she heard a stirring down the hall. Her aging mother, long since retired to bed, stirred and ceased snoring in her sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued, drawing her blade close to her chest and willing her energies to stay focused.

"I call to Fire, burning passion of purpose, powers of the South and ancient ones of the sacred watchtowers...hear me, know me, protect me, guide me..."

The flame rose high in the candle, knowingly sensing her ideas, her presence. She removed her bathrobe to reveal the shivering glow of her naked body; let her hair tumble down over her shoulder blades and down her breasts as she began to spin round her source of light. Like a scene out of some dark occult movie, she thought to herself with some mirth as she lit four sticks of incense and drew her wand. Then again, this was what she knew. But she was making no movie, did not seek thrill or approval. Even now as she shrouded herself in secrecy and called the final corner, she continued to remind herself that she would never make this her practice a "spectacle". Healers did not need "recognition". Healers needed only to do their job right the first time, to see their loved ones well again. It was enough. It would be enough for her.

Hail Marys would do her no good now. For years, she had prayed aloud to a God that made no sense to her. A God who was both jealous and forgiving, both wrathful to his children and overtly kind. Hers was a lifetime of churches and repentance, of locking dreams and secret, hidden desires away, washing them out like the bad blood of sin. It always seemed she was learning the hardest lessons of all, and nothing would speak to her, give her comfort along the way. Still, she was a good little churchgoer, right up to confirmation. She swore her soul to her patron saint, that she would spend a lifetime painting landscapes the likes of which none would ever criticize. And she had kept that promise certainly, the only promise she would ever keep from her old religion. It was true that she would never again be what she was. The good little Catholic schoolgirl who always listened to mommy and daddy, knowingly turned her face toward the skies and incanted the presence of the God and Goddess. She was a Witch, and a Witch she would remain. None could ever know, but such was her choice. It was the one place she felt her spirit was alive in. It was the only time God and Goddess alike ever spoke back. The rest of the world could be content in their tabernacles and houses of God- but now she was different. Not for any bad or evil reason, just different. That alone was difficult, and as she scattered salt and water to purify the circle, she trembled upon her steps at the mere thought of what her friends would say if they knew.

Focus, she reminded herself. You have a purpose tonight, and you must fulfill this. He needs you. If he does not wake now, he will die.

Haunted by visions of his face contorted in pain, she focused a white beam of light through her heart. She was circling her altar so closely, her heels might have caught fire from the touch of the flame. With bright eyes and burning tears, she opened her mouth and began to chant.

God and Goddess of this plane
Heal the one I call by name
Trapped in some world beyond this place
Bring color back into his face
The blood flows blue, the blood flows red
Bring him back into his head…

Her voice was harsh, obvious, sincere. She could feel her chest rumbling, echoing with her fear and confidence, her anger and grief. As she spoke each word, her voice rose in volume and intensity, deepening and strengthening, till her whispers became roars and her roars became screams.

God and Goddess, if it be right
Let him awaken in his bed tonight

Terrified, tranced, unable to cease, she whirled and sprinted round the circle, tears falling fast and sobs interrupting the chant.

If to live he is, let him wake strong and free
As I will, So Mote It Be!!

As if from some higher power, the whirlwind she had created from her own body's circling immediately ceased and she collapsed, exhausted, to the floor. With the last of her strength, she extinguished the candle, closed the circle cautiously, quietly, without another word. Down the hall, she heard her mother calling, asking quietly if she was all right. She said nothing as she slipped her clothes back on and slid underneath the starch cotton sheets of her bed. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she prayed for sleep for herself, rest, comfort, solace. As the room faded from her vision, white light filled her eyes, engulfed her body. This would be no ordinary night after all. She was going somewhere, and soon.


...................


An incredibly light feeling overwhelmed her senses as she regained control of her limbs, felt her body gliding forward on cold white linoleum. Gazing at her surroundings, she found herself in a desolate, empty hallway painted surgical ward green. Dim lights cast shivering shadows on the wall, and only a few night ward nurses seemed to wander these halls at night. Drawn to a room further down on the far left, she wandered toward the gold engraved number of the second floor intensive care unit.

In the room, an overhead light was glowing above the bed closest to the door. A plastic wall curtain hung between the space where the other bed, window patient lay. Cautiously, she stepped in toward the first bed. The familiar scruffy face and muscular physiqued man she had grown to adore, respect, and care deeply about, lay peacefully sleeping upon stacks of pillows, his arms draped at his sides, unmoving. Defeated but comforted by seeing his face, she smiled and reached to brush his cheek.

As if by sudden impulse, his eyes opened and looked straight into her eyes. Terrified, she blinked and pinched herself against his night tray-table.

"Are you my guardian angel? Am I alive?"

He can see me? she thought in a whirlwind of panic. Is this a dream, or am I astral? And if I'm astral, surely he can't see me...right?

"Can you not speak, pretty winged one? I know I can see you...you look so familiar...like one of my students."

Entranced, she reached behind her head to find a pair of large, feathery wings stemming out of her back. She blinked, pinched herself on purpose this time. Not dreaming. Oh, gods. This is me? I am an angel? HIS angel? It isn't possible. Is it? She looked down at her body, completely there and shrouded in a long white dressing gown. Gazing over at him, she could see his frown of confusion and nervousness. Her heart filled with compassion and sorrow and joy for being able to see him, awake and alive at last.

"I am one of your students, and you are my greatest teacher. Do you recognize me, Mr. McCullough?" As she spoke, she folded her wings into her back, surprising herself that she even knew how.

"My God. It IS you. I thought, I KNEW. I heard your voice telling me to wake, I heard you calling. Something special about it, something absolutely compelling, telling me I HAD to wake. I didn't think anyone would be here when I did. But you, you're here, beside me, as if you'd been waiting all along. Like a guardian. You have to be my angel on Earth, you must be. You must be."

"Then, I must be." This is insane, she thought, but if I cast the spell and got this result, it has to be true- there must be a reason.

"Will you stay with me?" the fragile face asked quietly. "I'm a little afraid I'll fall back asleep and won't wake up. I want to be awake for my wife."

"Of course. I'll stay with you. I'll stay as long as you need me to." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him, so pale and uncomfortable, hooked with IVs and tubes and all kinds of gear on his head. But he was awake and alive, talking coherently to her. It was enough.

"I miss being home," he whispered quietly. "I've missed teaching you, I've missed my other students. I feel so far away from everything. I want to go back; I feel ready to go back."

"You will, in time. You still need to heal."

"Right," he mumbled defeatedly. "I just wish I could remember what happened."

She reached for him, a comforting arm to wrap around his body. His eyes began to well with tears as she cradled his head and sang quietly. She stroked his trembling cheeks and tried very hard not to cry herself. She talked of comforting things, assuring him that he would return to his lessons, his old life, in no time, be himself again. He smiled and held her hand, sang playfully along with her. They smiled and talked until the dawn.

When the sunlight streamed in over his bedside, a gentle woman's voice echoed in her head. Sweetheart, it's best you go now. They'll be coming soon. Without a blink or flinch, she knew who it was and how to get back. She turned to him, took his hand one last time.

"I'm sorry. I have to go, but I'll see you soon. In our next lesson. Be sure you smile for your wife."

He smiled back. "I will. See you soon."

In a shimmering feeling of warmth and light, she felt her body gliding back into her own bed and becoming heavy just as her alarm began to ring her for work.


...............................

I have to know.

She sat outside on the old cement stoop of her office building and dialed his number, not knowing WHAT she would say when and if someone picked up. She worried desperately that he might still be asleep, that he might be dead, that it was all a hopeless dream. Still, it was so real, so VIVID in her mind. The smell of the bedclothes, the touch of his hand, the sound of his voice...

*click* "Hello, this is Rufus, can I help you with something?"

Rufus was his best friend, his confidante. If anyone would know about his progress in health, it would be Rufus. And there must have been a reason HE was answering the phone.

"Hi, Rufus, it's um, Chloe." She could feel her face growing hot and her hands growing cold. "I was wondering if you've heard any news?"

"Chloe! Glad you called, perfect day, absolutely a miracle. Tell the others! He's awake, he's talking, he says the most amazing thing happened but he won't tell anyone. We're just so glad he's back at it, the ol' skinflint. We're thrilled. We're ecstatic. Still not taking visitors but keep sending cards, won't you?"

"Of course, Rufus. Thank you so much. That's wonderful news. Yes, you too. Goodbye."

My gods.



..............................

Some months later, she stepped back through a familiar threshold, smiling as she met the scampering cats at the door. Up the stairs and to the left, the familiar studio filled with books and the damp smell of ancient history lay waiting, along with an even more welcome and familiar face. His eyes lit up with a sparkle of- could it be?- remembrance?- as he wiped the gruff look from his face, replaced it with a watery smile and a tight embrace.

"Good morning, Chloe. It's great to see you again. Shall we get started?"

We've more than begun, she thought to herself. We've more than begun.